I woke up at 2:30 this morning, for no reason I can figure, and looked at Twitter only to see the insanity coming out of Boston and Watertown. I followed the person tweeting the Boston Police scanner, eye witnesses in Watertown, and regular news sources.
Sometime around 3am, I heard singing. A beautiful voice floated into my window. I don’t know where the singer was – above me in my building, on the street, down the road. But an operatic voice was singing with such a beautiful, clear tone. I could only catch snippets of melody, but to my ears it sounded like Danny Boy.
As I fell back to sleep they were reporting a door to door manhunt.
This morning as I wake up, the culmination of events on the radio sounds scripted, cinematic and just unreal. I guess that happens sometimes when reality becomes hard to understand.
I don’t have anything to add to the media bustle around these events. I’m dumbfounded. I posted on Facebook earlier this week that I’d just recently read an article about the Daffodil Project.
Now I see the daffodils all over the city differently – visible symbols of perseverance and restoration. And of beauty.